


Unexpected Expectations

by RedIronRouge



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Postpartum Depression, Recovery, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 19:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedIronRouge/pseuds/RedIronRouge
Summary: Prompto and his wife begin the journey to recovery after she admits to needing help.This isn't a long story. It's more like a really long headcanon of how I think Prompto and his wife would handle her suffering from PPD. This was written during my own time struggling with PPD.Story starts off with the admission of needing help and continues through recovery.I got a hectic life style change that took me away for a looooong time. This story will update again shortly.





	Unexpected Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> I want this to focus more on the recovery of Prompto's wife, him picking up the pieces she can't and how this effects their families. Not just during recovery, but also through the next few years as well.

She was crumpled into the smallest ball that she could manage to turn into, in the furthest corner of the apartment. On the other side of the house she could still hear it. Wailing. Absolute, mind breaking, insufferable wailing. Of course the small human emitting these screams was not being harmed. In fact, the child was in a clean and dry diaper, freshly fed, burped, bopped, cuddled, shushed and napped. There was nothing that should have been conceivably wrong to make the infant scream with the ferocity that it was. Yet it screamed anyway and as a result there she sat, hiding away from the child and covering her own ears to the shrill noises driving her to the brink of insanity. Each little second between screams was a small relief that scorned her each time it didn't last. It was in those moments, when the screaming would start again after tiny lungs filled, that the thoughts would swarm around in her head.

"It would look like an accident if I just covered her face."

"It would be so easy to just put her out with the garbage. Would anyone even notice?"

When Prompto and her announced their pregnancy it opened up the beautiful world of unwanted advice and stories. All the little anecdotes people wanted to plant as seeds into the heads of new parents. These seeds would grow into expectations, hopes or even fears. One of those hopes and expectations was that bringing home your baby for the first time was such a wonderful, peaceful, heart warming experience. The idea of it plays out almost like a retro television show where every says "by golly" and "awe, shucks, mom." A clean, peaceful, organized and joyful home filled with overly joyful and pure people.

The reality was so much different. There's screaming, sleepless nights and days, endless expectations from parents and family. Irritation builds when eating becomes an hour long process instead of a few minutes. Self confidence breaks when alone time becomes choosing between which necessities to personhood can be ignored for another day instead of relaxing. Cleaning becomes a chore, eating becomes a chore, showering or changing clothes becomes a chore. In such a short amount of time all of the difficulties of being a new parent build up until they're released in an explosion. Some people can handle the pressure. People like Prompto that took to parenting like it was oxygen or water. Sleepless nights rolled off him like nothing. He tuned out screams like background noise. Every vomit covered outfit was a memory, every second with their child was a treasure that he always needed to find something positive in. 

She wished she were like that in this moment. She wanted so badly to be the parent Prompto was--to be a fraction of the parent he was. Instead she was thinking the most horrible of thoughts she ever could about her own child. Often she would find herself sitting outside the door of their fussy three week olds room, crying on the floor when she would refuse to sleep. Prompto never felt the need to ignore their daughter for her own safety, yet it was almost a daily occurrence for her now. It served only one meaning; She was a terrible parent. A failure to her child and to Prompto. She strived to be like him, but it was clear to her in that moment she never could be. There was something wrong with her. Something dangerously wrong with her. Every day she tried so hard to beat the thoughts that invaded daily. She suppressed urges she thought parents--mothers--could never feel toward their children. At the end of the day she could crawl into bed at odd hours, hoping the next day would be easier, but it never was. Each day was progressively worse. Each day the urges became harder to fight, the thoughts harder to push away.

Sitting alone in a corner, tears falling down her face and having the worst thoughts she possibly ever could: it was decided. She couldn't be a parent anymore. Instead, she pulled her phone from her pocket, scrolling through her recent contacts until she found the number she needed. It rang a few times until she heard his optimistic voice on the other end, always excited to hear from the woman he loved.

"Prom," her voice sounded hoarse and dejected. "You have to come home."

"Why? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

She shook her head even though he couldn't see it, "I can't do this anymore. I can't be alone with her. I  
..I don't trust myself to be around her alone. Please. Please, come home."

It was silent for only a moment, as if he were processing what she had said. "I'm coming home now."

She hung up before he could say anything else.

******

Prompto couldn't hear anything when he arrived at the door. He had rushed home as soon as she hung the phone up, but now he was on high alert. What if he was too late to get home and something horrible happened? Entering the apartment he barely made sure the door was closed before rushing to the nursery. He made sure not to be loud as he opened the door, peering inside enough to see the child in their crib. His heart fluttered with relief the slightest bit, but he wanted to be absolutely sure that his child was safe. So he crept to the crib to lay one hand lighty on the infant's chest; She was breathing. She was safe. Almost instantly he felt his body become weak with the weight that was lifted off of him, but it was only replaced as soon as he heard her voice from the doorway. Hollow, flat. It was nothing like the sweet, confident voice he was so used to hearing.

"She fell asleep after about 10 minutes. It felt like forever."

He removed his hand from his daughter's chest, letting it rest on the crib railing instead. He turned to see her leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest, head leaning on the frame. Her eyes were on their child instead and for a moment he felt like he wanted to shield the child from her gaze. It was an almost immediate reaction--one that made him feel guilty--that he fought off.

"I came home as soon as you hung up."

"Thank you." Silence fell between them. A long, uncomfortable silence. It wasn't until she stood straight, arms falling to her side that it was broken.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

He only nodded in response. With one last look at his daughter he followed her out to the living room. She sat on the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to her chest. For the first time in their relationship he felt as though he wasn't invited--wasnt *allowed*--to sit next to her. So he didn't. He took residence on a chair across from her while trying to find the right words to say what he felt. 

"I can't do this anymore," her eyes were finally meeting his, but they were so lifeless. There was so much exhaustion and hopelessness written on her face that it made his chest tighten. 

"What do you mean?" 

Of course he knew what she meant. Prompto wasn't ignorant to what had been happening since their daughter was born. At least he thought he wasn't. She was always irritable, picking fights, complaining about doing things for the baby or not being able to do things for herself. The house would become dirtier, but never cleaner. She would eat once a day or less, neglect her hygiene, constantly forget appointments, stay holed up in the house. At first he believed it was just that she hadn't gotten into a routine yet. They were always told by people that it's getting into a routine that's the hard part about being a new parent. He wasn't sure how long that could take, so he just felt one day she would fall into it and things would get better. Until then he would so his best to take over the parenting responsibilities when he came home from work, even waking at night when he didn't have early mornings. All in the hopes that if he helped more maybe it would help her get into a routine.

"I'm not cut out to be a parent, Prom. I can't do this anymore. I can't be alone with her."

Her lip quivered, but she still managed to hold whatever she was holding back in. He just wanted to be able to help. How could he do that if she didn't talk to him?

"That's not true. You're a great mother. Things are just hard right now, but we can work through it."

She shook her head, "You don't understand how I feel. You never could. You're practically the god of parenting expectations."

He was confused for a moment about what she meant. 

"You think I don't get moments where I feel like I can't do it anymore? I do. I get those feelings a lot. I just deal with it differently."

"I thought about killing her, Prompto!" The sudden anger in her voice threw him through a ringer. He was used to her mood swings, but this didn't seem like a mood swing to him. It felt like he had said the wrong thing and broke open the flood gates to something much deeper. 

"I sat here and I though about how easy it would be to just go into her room and smother her with a pillow. I thought about how easy it would be to put her in a trash bag and dump her in some dumpster or trail in the woods. I've thought about slapping her and screaming at her and shaking her until she just would shut up. You don't understand how this feels. You don't understand how I feel!"

Prompto allowed some time to pass to process what she had said, but she continued before he could grasp it. She was calmer then, back to sounding broken and sad.

"I just...I love her so much. I couldn't imagine how broken I would be if something ever happened to her and yet I'm the one who could hurt her. I just..." She held her head in her hands as she let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't mean I want to run away and never come back. I just can't do it right now. I need help, Prom. Serious help."

He nodded almost in a trance, "I can help you. I'll take time off of work and I can get Ignis to help find a good doctor. I can hire someone to be here when I'm at work--"

"No!" He visibly flinched at her hasty response, but she didn't acknowledge it if she noticed. "I don't want everyone to know that I'm a horrible parent. They already judge me as it is. I don't want that to be worse."

Prompto furrowed his brows for a moment, "who is judging you? You're an amazing parent, babe. Just because you feel like this doesn't mean you're not awesome at what you do. It just means we have some...bumps in the road to work out."

"Everyone is judging me. They judge *us.* Someone is always judging us for what we do. I can't even leave the apartment without the neighbor lady giving me a dirty look ever since she found out that we don't formula feed!"

"I think that's just her face, babe. She *is* kinda crazy."

"I'm being serious, Prompto."

"So am I," seeing her irritation at his attempt to lighten the mood he sighed. Scooting the seat closer to the sofa he was able to reach her hands, folding them both between his own. "Look, I know you feel like everyone judges you, but it isn't true. Even if they do what's more important? Your appearance to them or the safety of our child?"

"...I want her safe."

"Then we need to get you help. I love you. I want you to be here, with us and being the best self you can be. That starts with the doctor and it starts with a lot of support."

"I know."

"I'll call Iggy. Maybe he can set up an appointment for you with the therapist he used to see."

Before anything could be said in response he had stood from his chair, leaned in to give her a chaste kiss on the forehead and then walked to the hallway to make a phone call. 

****************

"Post Partum Depression is something that effects most mothers after birth. It's one of the most common post pregnancy ailments diagnosed in the world. Even the fathers can sometimes struggle with it."

Prompto couldn't help but notice the way she was looking beside the doctors head as he spoke. He watched the way that she nodded at certain parts, soaking in the things he said without having to ever speak a word in response. It made him feel like she wasn't trying to make things better.

"I'm glad you recognized you needed help, though." The doctor gave a reassuring smile to both of them. "Women try to ignore these feelings and they end up harming themselves or their children sometimes. This is something we can all help set straight. Recognizing you have a problem is the first step."

Prompto sighed, "is this normal then? Is she just going to ignore everyone who talks about it forever?"

The doctor seemed to take a moment to study her. As he did she met his eyes. "I don't believe she's ignoring me at all."

"I'm not," she replied. "I want to be get better. I want to be able to trust myself to be the mother I have to be. That starts here."

"That it does. I'm also going to give you a prescription for antidepressants. Low dosage to start with and if after a few weeks you feel no improvement we can try a higher dosage. However, medication is only one step."

"What else is there?"

He rifled through the papers on his clipboard to scan the information he had about her before replying.

"I believe that supervised visits between your daughter and you is best for both of your safety. Spending time with her is important for your recovery. While you do if you feel stressed remove yourself from the situation and do something relaxing. Is there anything that relaxes you?"

"Classical music. I play piano."

"Ah, a pianist! I believe that will be great. Play piano when you're stressed to relax. You can even try bonding with your daughter over it. Making it something you both do together that is relaxing may help ease your healing process."

"I don't think I'll be able to do that. She's only a few weeks old."

The doctor smiled warmly at her, "ah, but you can. Music is actually very influential. You'll feel calmer playing Moonlight Sonata than, let's say, Rachmaninov. The right classics will soothe not only you, but your daughter as well. Just set her by you while you play or even baby wear her. The combination of skin on skin contact and music should be enough to calm even the most upset babies."

For the first time in a long time Prompto watched the love of his life sit up a little straighter. He watched the smallest glimmer of light spark in her eyes as she soaked in the idea. Almost immediately he could see her imagining the scenario. Her hopes were ignited in a way he had only been trying to see. It made his chest bloom with a warmth he had seemed to let worry ice over. 

Prompto reached out to her chair, resting his hand on her's. It was the first time she didn't shake off his contact since the day he'd come home from her frantic call. 

"I can clean off the piano when we get home. I'll stop at the music store to get that replacement key, too."

When she turned to smile at him, small as it ever was, it was like he felt himself falling for her all over again. She was broken. She was suffering. Yet she was there with him and he with her and he would fight to see the fire within her burn brighter than the sun for as long as he had to. 

\-------------

The car ride was silent in the beginning, but to Prompto it was the most relaxing silence he could remember being in. The last few days was mostly icy silence. In such a short time he began to drift away from the woman he loved without ever even realizing it. Now, though, he had hope--their family had hope. So when she broke the silence it only added more hope to his heart.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Everything. Understanding, supporting, loving. You do so much for me and our daughter. I've been pulling away so much lately. I felt like I had to deal with all this alone because otherwise everyone would judge me. You didn't, though. You're helping me and it can't be easy for you to."

Keeping his eyes on the road he let his hand reach out for her's. He held it firmly, gently rubbing his thumb along her hand.

"I didn't build a life with you to give up on it when things got hard. I love you. I'll always be here for you."


End file.
